Because you can not predict the future
by JJSx
Summary: That's when Jim's eyes first landed on John. Although the corners of his lips went up, the smile didn't reach his eyes. John felt himself freeze, realizing he was holding his breath. Jim/Sherlock/John
1. Chapter 1

/DISCLAIMER: I'm not the BBC so yep. I don't own Sherlock.

"Pass me my phone"- Sherlock

 _"Where is it? "- John_

"Jacket – Careful! "

 _"Text… from your brother"_

"Delete it. "

"…Delete it? "

…

Finally! A match! The search was completed. As if Molly had been waiting for the right time, she rushed into the room asking, "Any luck? "

Sherlock thrilled at seeing progress, gave a shortl "Oh Yes"

John stepped further away from the desk, giving an excited Molly enough space to pear at the results on the screen. Before any other words were said a man walked through the door, ‚'oh sorry! I didn't... "

"JIM!'', gasped Molly, clearly surprised at seeing him.

She quickly bid him inside. John wasn't thrilled, he felt completely redundant. He could tell immediately that whoever Jim is, was clearly just as fascinated by Sherlock as Molly. Yep his thoughts were confirmed. It annoyed John that she wasn't even able to introduce him to the man she met. ,, _office romance''_ Did he just hear Sherlock muttering gay? As in Jim being gay? John quickly looked up seeing Molly's perplexed stare before looking at Jim properly. John noted that Jim was completely oblivious to what was being said – eyes locked on Sherlock. No surprise there. Almost made John roll his eyes. Did he just drop…? John couldn't help it – he groaned quietly, lifting his arms up as if to block his own view from what was going on. Oh now he's leaving. Well good idea – that– would certainly help. Jim waited for Sherlock to reciprocate his goodbye yet when no reply was given, John felt the need to mutter in Sherlock's place, out of decency –mind you– not because he wanted attention, "You too". That's when Jim's eyes first landed on John. Although the corners of his lips went up, the smile didn't reach his eyes. John felt himself freeze, realizing he was holding his breath. He wasn't sure what it was but something about this man didn't seem right. When the door closed after Jim, he cleared his throat, shaking his head to get rid of whatever he just thought. His attention was brought back to Molly by hearing her ask, "So what do you think?"

Yet again she clearly didn't want to hear what he had to say.

"Hmm?" Sherlock asked, not looking up from his microscope.

Molly fidgeted before asking again, "What do you think of Jim?"

"Oh . . . he's gay," Sherlock replied dryly. John felt uncomfortable being present in the room, so he quickly decided to grab himself some coffee and to catch some fresh air. He could definitely need some privacy.

"What do you mean _gay_? We're together!" John heard Molly almost yell, while he closed the door quietly.

"He's not _gay_. Why do you always have to spoil– he's not"

He could still hear her veiled anger while walking down the hall to the coffee machine. Even though his reason for leaving the room was to not be part of the conversation, he couldn't help but think about Jim and the possibility of him being gay. He put a coin into the coffee machine, pressing down the button and waited.

"You are so cruel! I'm leaving– I can't."Door was ripped open. – Molly.

John saw her running down the other hall and couldn't shake off the guilty feeling of seeing her in that state. He knew he could have stopped Sherlock from being too honest, or well mean, to her. Grabbing his coffee, he decided that he didn't need the fresh air after all and walked back to the room Sherlock was still in.

Sherlock was still gazing through his microscope when he entered and for a split second he felt like telling him off for being so cold.  
"Could you have not..?", John started but then stopped.

Sherlock glanced at him then to the side, "Lift this"

"What?", confused John followed the previous movement, seeing the item Sherlock must have meant.

Knowing he would only receive a frustrated reply by Sherlock if he were to ask _Why_ He went to said item and lifted it. A note.

"Call me… number", John murmured, reading the note, his voice getting higher, "Oh!"

He could feel his face heat up. Did he feel jealous, was he surprised.

"See? Gay.", Sherlock yawned, pushing his chair back, standing up,"Let's go?"

John nodded, unconsciously putting the note in his pocket.


	2. Chapter 2

John heard gun shots, one... two..., he opened the door, covering his ears with his hands, he rushed slightly hunched over up the stairs.

He heard even more gunshots being fired. Four to be exact.

"What the _hell_ are you doing?!", John yelled, completely mad at seeing Sherlock slouched in the couch.

"Bored", Sherlock said in a dull voice.

" _What?_ ", John spat out.

" _BORED_ ", Sherlock repeated, his voice louder than before, jumping up and ready to fire yet again.

Shocked and at loss for words John saw Sherlock fire another two gun shots while repeating yet again just how _bored_ he was.

Sherlock finally lowered his gun and John immediately seized his chance and took the gun out of his hand, taking out the remaining bullets.

"Not much got in to the criminal classes... Good job I'm not one of them.", murmured Sherlock, walking to the wall.

"So you take it out on the _wall_?", John asked, not expecting an answer at all. He was so annoyed and pissed at how Sherlock acted lately just by not having any cases.

"Ah the wall had it coming", Sherlock said, caressing the bullet hole then in a quick move, he flapped his bathing robe forward and let himself fall down on the couch. Somewhat gracefully, John thought. He was hungry so he decided to let this incident go past him and walked to the kitchen.

Opening the fridge, he quickly closed it again. Eyes wide he muttered _head._

"Is that a head?", John asked, still not sure how to react to it.

"Just tea for me, thanks.", Sherlock replied, clearly ignoring the fact that John was in shock and had clearly not expected to find a _head_.

"No, there's a _head_ in the fridge", John said, walking out of the kitchen, towards Sherlock.

"Well where else was I supposed to put it? You don't mind do you? Got it from Bart's morgue. I'm measuring the coagulation of salvia after death.", Sherlock explained as if it were nothing special.

John has had _enough._ He had to leave this flat at once.

"Forget it", John said in a sharp voice, grabbing his jacket, leaving the room and walking down the stairs, his anger getting the better of him by hearing Sherlock ask, "Forget what?" which John replied to with slamming the front door.

He sucked in a deep breath of the cold air, feeling the weight lifted off him.

It always surprised him just how much he calmed down being out in the open. He gulped, his throat feeling dry. Thirsty. He really needed a drink.

Not wanting to go back yet, he walked right into the first best pub.

Is it good to order a beer? Yeah. He deserved it after all.

Looking for a few bucks to pay for his drink right away, his fingers brushed something softish yet sturdy. The note!

Putting the note down in front of him, he took a swing of his beer.

Cherishing the feeling of the cold drink, he felt himself relax even more.

He stared at the note and took another few gulps of his beer, finishing it quickly.

Ordering another beer, he grabbed the note, staring intently at the phone number. Jim… whom Sherlock thought was gay.

The next beer was placed down in front of him and he heard the waitress ask, "Admirer? "

He flushed, the thought of that, making him feel weird somehow.

"Uh no. It's nothing", John said, trying to smile but failing.  
He must seem really nervous to her, he thought bitterly.

He put the note back in his pocket, watching her give him a smile and walking away to another customer.

John grabbed his fresh beer and took a few hasty sips, trying to calm himself down.

What's gotten to him, he thought, fidgeting in his chair.

Man up, grow a pair of balls, he thought and with a sudden change of heart, he took out the note as well as his mobile and typed:

 **Are you serious about her?**

Sent.

Suddenly his eyes widened. Shit. He just wrote Molly's boyfriend. Bloody hell. How _that_ must look like! The note had definitely been for Sherlock and not for boring old him.

His mobile buzzed, noisily. He quickly turned it to mute, looking around for annoyed stares. He saw none. Staring down at the small display, almost dropping the mobile in the process, he gasped. That was quick.

 **Because I left the note? Which wasn't for you… (btw).**

John bit down on his bottom lip, what was he supposed to write. Oh man.. this was such a stupid idea. He felt like an idiot … yet – the reply pissed him more off than it should. I mean sure, he thought, Sherlock was really attractive with his long black curls, his cheekbones, the way he adjusts his coat collar, his beautiful mesmerizing blue eyes but… he wasn't too bad himself! Sure he's not as intelligent and maybe as witty as Sherlock but hell… to be _this_ rude about it. Well he's not having it. He's gonna show this _Jim_. Typing furiously John typed:

 **What do you need** _ **Sherlock**_ **for?**

Sent. He grinned, staring down at the phone, feeling proud like what you got to say now. Huh. He took another swing of his beer, finishing that one too. He was expecting a quick reply but not receiving anything for another 10 minutes made him another beer. Which he soon finished too. He paid, he felt somewhat dizzy. Obviously the alcohol and the lack of dinner would have this effect of him.

Stepping out of the pub he received the longed message:

 **\- You're right ;) What would I need him for indeed. Nite Nite John. Sorraay. I'm busy. I'll get in touch with you soon. Take care. Jim.**

(PLEASE REVIEW :D)


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